The van was just outside the layer of crushed stone of the beach’s parking lot, far enough into the neighboring woods to have vines growing through its wheels. Just like Jeron said.
“Think anyone’d notice if we opened it now?” asked Walter.
Nevin shrugged. “No, but why risk anyone seeing what we take out? Do it tonight, like we discussed. Listen to the police radio, wait until they’re distracted on some incident.”
“But we’re so close. This is killing me.”
Nevin smiled, and pulled out a vine from the front wheel. “Might wanna think about your word choice, son.”
Friday Fictioneers is a weekly flash fiction challenge. I’m not sure why but I’m currently unable to add my links to the site, but I’ll keep on posting here.
The Diligent Dilettante 